


all things considered

by brawlite



Series: layers of home [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coffee Shops, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, did you catch the surprise and stealthy appearance of coulson and skye?, kate helps bucky with sorting his life out bc she is great, there is less winterhawk in this than there should be i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawlite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a genetically enhanced assassin responsible for history-shaping catastrophes worldwide -- and he cannot escape the persistence of a teenager. Apparently, he is a sucker for people that possess fondness for the color purple and archery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all things considered

 

“What about Italian? Old people like going out for Italian food at little hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Isn’t that a thing?” 

James thinks, belatedly, that taking Kate out for coffee was a bad idea. The line at Starbucks couldn’t possibly move _any_ slower. It’s so slow that it has to be a plot. The baristas running the cash register have got to be HYDRA; they found him and now they’re torturing him with slowly moving lines while he gets grilled about his dating-life. They’re really it for the long game. Maybe -- maybe he shouldn’t joke about that. But if Barton gets to joke about his time under Loki’s control as a coping mechanism, then Barnes gets to kid about HYDRA.

“No.”

Kate looks not-deterred in the slightest. “Ice cream, then. You could go out for _soft serve_. There’s a couple places by central park, I think. You could make a day of it. Get some fancy gourmet flavors like pistachio-mochi or bitter melon-açaí. Have a picnic. Try not to get picked up by Soviet mafia goons.”

He has no idea what more than half of those individual flavors are. But that always seems to be the case with Kate -- she’s always talking about something he only ever understands the periphery of. 

The line budges an inch and James sneaks forward in an attempt to escape the conversation, looking supremely uncomfortable and overwhelmingly undercaffeinated. The jilted movement does nothing to help his situation.

He is a genetically enhanced assassin responsible for history-shaping catastrophes worldwide -- and he cannot escape the persistence of a teenager. Apparently, he is a sucker for people that possess fondness for the color purple and archery. He’s doomed, but that doesn’t stop him from arguing.

“No.”

“Don’t be such a grumpy old man. You’re allowed to date and have fun. So: you should date and have fun. Take your _sweetheart_ out on a date.”

Barnes huffs, if only because they’ve had this discussion many times, in many iterations, and through many different metaphors before they finally started talking about it openly. “We’re not dating,” He sighs, and adds, “and we’re not _sweethearts_ ,” as an important afterthought. Because it _is_ important, and Kate needs to understand that. 

A businessman and a young woman file behind them in line. James knows better than anyone to presume relationships these days, but from the way they’re standing they’re close, but not _that_ close. She is a -- daughter, niece -- maybe a good family friend. It doesn’t matter, but James can’t stop himself from checking up on those around him, making little notes in his head. Like how he hasn’t really stopped watching the guy who looks like a bodybuilder in front of them who keeps checking his watch, grumbling about how he’ll be late for his next Zumba class. James doesn’t know what that is, but every time he mentions it, Kate stifles a snicker, so it must be something incongruent with the way he presents himself.

He ignores the people around them as best as he can, and attempts to ignore Kate even better, focusing his attention way ahead of them at the slow moving baristas who do not move any faster no matter how much Barnes glares at them. 

“We should go.” He grumbles, thinking that this has clearly gotten out of hand. Kate’s grip on him, her ability to persuade him to do things like _go to coffee shops, come on Jamie, it’ll be fun_ is absolutely unacceptable. It all started its steady downfall when she brought home shampoos and made him choose which absurdly named scent he liked best. Now? It’s disconcerting how easily he agrees to her every whim. And boy, does she have many. “We have coffee at home.”

The phrase slips out before he can even think about it, and for a second he can’t figure out why the archer is downright _beaming_ at him, face lit-up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “At the apartment.” He quickly amends, though he knows it’s far too late. 

“Aw, Jamie. Look’it you.” She bumps him with her shoulder, which he reminds himself is something she would never have done (and he wouldn’t have tolerated) a couple months ago. He’s slipping. Or healing -- he’s not sure which, sometimes. “Admit it, you’re getting all cozy and _settled._ ” He just grunts, running his fingers over the stubble on his cheeks, while she keeps going. “Come on. Look, you have a home. _And_ you have a sweetheart. You sleep with the same person every night in the same place, with a dog cozied up between you, and you make coffee for each other in the morning. I’m not sure why you’re denying it.” 

Before he can say anything in argument or otherwise, to his absolute and utter embarrassment, Kate turns to the people behind them in line with a grin. “Heeey. So. Question.”

The man looks on with an amused, but understated smile, and doesn’t engage. Unfortunately, the young woman, who seems to be the right age to be a peer to Kate and therefore more inclined to answer, gives an outright grin. “What’s up?” There is absolutely no way, James thinks with a frown, that they missed any part of their conversation after they walked through the door.

“Hypothetical, here:” It’s not hypothetical. No one is under the impression it’s _hypothetical_. “If you sleep with the same person every night, cohabitate with them, buy groceries together, and argue about which pizza toppings to feed a jointly-owned dog -- would you consider yourself dating someone?” Kate, in some fit of kindness, at least keeps it all workplace friendly, which James is ever grateful for. Until she opens her mouth to continue. Of _course_. “And, you know, keep in mind, that you also better be having _mind blowing_ sex, because your apartment walls are, like, super thin, and your roommate can totally hear you banging said person every night.”

He hates Kate Bishop. He is never going to Starbucks again. “Not _every_ night.” James mumbles, deciding to face forward in the line once more, and reclaim a few inches of space given to them, to put some distance between himself and Kate. It’s a wonder he doesn’t feel trapped in the coffee shop, stuck between a never-ending line of people he doesn’t know and a conversation he does not want to be having about a relationship he isn’t in.

He can _feel_ the young woman smiling at him, and then at Kate, but he refuses steadfastly and stubbornly to turn around. Instead, he focuses on the blond woman a few people ahead currently paying for her coffee. “Sure. I think that’s a pretty clear sign you’re in a relationship with someone. Maybe you should invest in some thicker walls, though." 

“Awesome. Thanks for the input!” He feels Kate’s shoulder bump companionably against him again, but he can only sigh and take a step forward in line when the opportunity presents itself. “Super helpful. See, Jamie? You’re totes sweethearts.” And with that, Kate decides that she’s done making nice with strangers, probably because she is _actually_ a good person and she knows how much he hates interacting with people he hasn’t stalked and vetted personally. She respects that, on occasion. And -- it’s something he appreciates about her, he really does. Because she doesn’t just go soft on him. She pushes and pulls and likes tugging him out of his comfort zone and somehow always knows when to back off. She doesn’t treat him like something fragile, something broken -- and she knows that he treats her with the same respect.

To reciprocate the grand gesture of sudden _niceness_ on her part, he lets his right arm fall over her shoulders, loose and friendly. It helps ease his mind that the strangers behind them began ignoring them and started talking solely to each other, not that they really mattered in the first place. “What about carryout and a movie? He likes Thai.” 

And that, somehow, seems to appease whatever forces there are in the universe, because within seconds they’re at the front of the line, both of them ordering something sickeningly sweet and overpriced on James’ dime. Kate can’t seem to quit grinning up a storm and James tries his _very hardest_ to not feel like it was actually a decent outing, all things considered.

 


End file.
